


Beacon Hills Cop

by blueteak



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Power Play, Roleplay, Spanking, Strapping, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueteak/pseuds/blueteak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles fantasized about spanking well before he met Derek, but Derek's the one who's going to show him whether or not he likes it in reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beacon Hills Cop

**Author's Note:**

> Stiles is about 19 in this--older, but still a total smart ass.

It isn’t a daddy thing, Stiles swears. Not that there's anything wrong with that or anything, but Stiles can't hear 'daddy kink' without thinking of his own father and....no, just, no. His father has never and would never and Stiles never fantasized about him, or some faceless ‘dad’ figure doing this to him. Then again, he'd never fantasized about a barechested werewolf with flashing red eyes bending him over and slapping his ass ‘til he couldn’t sit for a week either, but that was clearly about to happen. Finally. 

Derek stood over him gripping the strap so tight he’d be punching holes in it if his claws were extended. If it did end up with holes, Derek’s Strap o’ Discipline could become a haute couture, artisan-crafted belt. Derek could model wearing. Or using it. For another type of magazine, sure, but it would be really….

Stiles’ fantasies about TA!Derek keeping the mythology class in line, or Roman Senator!Derek disciplining overly talkative fellow senators, and even plaid wearing Rancher!Derek taking lazy cowboys for a trip to the woodshed are suddenly interrupted when an extremely growly Derek, with flashing red eyes and everything, lifts him up, tosses him over his knee, and swats him. Hard. 

“How about Alpha!Derek disciplining a pack member?” Derek asks. Shit. He’d been speaking out loud. Note to self: mentioning “Derek” and “plaid” in the same sentence will get you spanked. If you’re his kinky mate, anyway. Stiles doesn’t want to think what would happen to, say, Jackson if Jackson were to ever….

It’s like Derek can sense that his mind’s gone on off on a tangent again, because fuck, even though he knows Derek must be holding back, it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. The next swats are sharp and hot and he doesn’t have the breath to cry the words he can’t form. He sniffles a little, and then Derek’s freaking huge hand, or paw, or whatever, pats his ass gently. The sting’s already settling into something tingly and warm as opposed to biting and harsh when Derek’s surprisingly soothing hands reach under him to unfasten his jeans. Without a thought or a prompting snarl from Derek, Stiles raises his hips as Derek tugs his jeans and boxers down and off. 

Derek’s always had a higher body temperature than most, but Stiles appreciates that more now than he did even in the blizzard of 2012. Derek’s fingers tracing patterns on his sensitized skin feel like those sore muscle heat wands Finstock finally ordered for the team, heat soothing away the tension and damping down the remaining hurt.

Stiles is so relaxed that he’s making purring sounds. He’s not even trying to get a rise out of Derek, seriously, but Derek must be thinking back to all the jokes Stiles has made about himself being like Chester, the super smart researcher cat in _Bunnicula_. Derek, of course, is the dumb dog, Harold. And dogs must not like cats to be happy, like, ever, because suddenly Derek is spanking him again at a tempo that has Stiles wondering whether Derek’s arm is in some sort of spanking marching band. 

It hurts, oh my God, it hurts so much, but his dick rubbing against Derek’s thigh is getting harder and harder and the knowledge that Derek’s got him, that he’ll give him just enough so that he’ll just feel instead of thinking an endless loop of spells and fangs and family members possibly dying, makes him glad that Derek’s arm’s holding him down, making him take it when he knows it’s what Stiles still wants, still needs despite his yelps and kicks. 

Stiles can’t meet Derek’s eyes when he’s shifted off of Derek’s lap and pulled to stand in front of him. He’s not embarrassed that he’s hard or that he asked for this. Or even that Derek saw him lose control. He just…..doesn’t want to talk yet, but thinks that Derek will feel guilty, think he did something wrong if he doesn’t have something to say. He just wants to bury his face in Derek’s neck, rock against him ‘til they both come. 

Derek, of course, has other plans. “Stiles. Look at me.”

Stiles looks, wishing now more than ever that he had a fringe of hair to hide his tear-filled eyes behind. He also starts wishing he’d never ever told Derek about all his strap-related fantasies when he sees that Derek’s holding the strap again. Still, despite his already sore ass and need to come right now, he can’t help but moan in a way that even he knows doesn’t sound like “hit me with that and I’ll castrate you with a silver knife.”

Derek grins and stands, pulling Stiles into a quick embrace before bending him over the bed and asking “you didn’t think we were done, did you?”

Stiles glares back over his shoulder at Derek and almost comes when he sees the way Derek’s knuckles are wrapped around the leather, the way he’s standing off the side ready to use that leather on Stiles, who is actually presenting his already red and throbbing ass to Derek, and…. He opens his mouth, then closes it quickly, suddenly worried about drooling. Derek looks unforgivably pleased with himself. 

Stiles just has to give him grief. It’s automatic whenever Derek’s looking too proud for his own good, but the urge to spar is even stronger when Derek’s looking smug about the freakin’ ass whipping he’s about to give Stiles. “Hey. Did you kill the cow you took the leather from yourself? Because if so, that’s really gross. I don’t want you whipping my ass with your dinner/chew toy.” 

“I was thinking four lashes,” Derek confides. “Now it’s six. Unless you want to apologize for your offense, of course. Or try for more.”

Hmph. Derek giving him a way out of this without using a safeword despite the fact that his wolfy senses have most likely been overwhelmed with Eau de Aroused Stiles is much appreciated, of course, but they’d never decided on the 'offense' that Stiles was being punished for. Stiles hadn’t been able to stop laughing at some of the punishment-getting ideas he’d tossed out. Derek, apparently sensing that S&M sexytimes would be derailed for longer than they had the house to themselves if Stiles continued to regale him with all the _Beverly Hills Cop_ inspired things he could do, including putting a banana in the Camaro’s tailpipe, had simply doubled up the strap and gone Alpha on him before they'd agreed on a mock-offense. Being an Alpha has its perks, it seems. 

Then again, Stiles has always had smart ass, strapping-earning wiles. “I would apologize for my offense, Derek, if I knew what it was,” he offers innocently, throwing in some eyelash batting. 

“I'm giving you seven now, wise ass. Eyes front.”

Stiles obediently moves his eyes front. And raises his ass higher. The deep breath Derek takes in response may just be his favorite thing. 

Well, one of his favorite things. He’s glad to know that strapping is worth all those hours of fantasizing. Derek went slow at first, gauging Stiles’s reaction in case fantasy didn’t live up to the reality, but Stiles had gasped the way he had the first time Derek had fucked him and pushed back up for more, wanting that shocking line of fire to enter the core of him, short circuit him and make him feel white hot and blank. And Derek had given it to him. 

They're about to get to the post-strapping fucking when Scott bursts in, claws extended and looking for whatever had been making Stiles hurt. The claws retract when he sees that his Alpha and Stiles are both naked and still half hard, but he snarls when he sees the strap on the floor. 

“I totally deserved it, Scott. I...um... stole his hair gel,” Stiles explains.


End file.
